Dark Days
by redtoes
Summary: Post book 7 AU. Two years after the Boy that Lived LOST the final battle with Voldemort, two ex-Hogwarts students struggle to survive in a world controlled by the Dark Lord. PART 7 NOW UP! Please R+R!
1. Introducing Jonny

Harry Potter: Dark Days  
  
Author's note: It's a month till book 5 but I think this'll stand up even after. My assumption (and I think everyone else's) is that the major battle between Harry and Voldemort is going to come in book 7, and this is my take on what would happen if Harry LOST. Two years after that final battle two original characters have to find their way through a world where the Boy who Lived died. I'm going to try an keep this as close to canon as possible, though it is (obviously) an alternate universe tale.  
  
Author's note 2: Jonny is 2 years younger than Harry/Ron/Hermione while Amelia is three years younger. At this point in time Jonny is 17 and Amelia, 16.  
  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine. Jonny and Amelia are however and though anyone who wants to is free to use them, please let me know first.  
  
Feedback: Please review, I have a lot of things I want to explore in this universe and the more reviews I get, the quicker I write.  
  
Enjoy.  
  
Chapter One  
  
They slept in a castle that night, huddled together against the fractured remnants of a millennia old wall. The wind howled above, whistling its way through the hilltop ruins, driving the rain down at impossible angles.  
  
Awkwardly Jonny pulled his cloak tighter over Amelia, trying to stretch the worn but still magically rain-proofed material over more of the sleeping girl, wanting to stretch their already meagre resources just one step, one bite, one night more. It was, as ever, a futile struggle.  
  
Awake and, technically, on watch Jonny scanned the skies, searching for the danger he knew he'd never see before it hit. He couldn't remember now which of the two of them had instilled this habit, splitting the night into two long shifts each watching out for other. Huddled against damp stone in the early hours of the morning Jonny liked to think it was his idea. He liked the thought that it was he who had seen the dangers that night could pose to two teenagers sleeping under the stars in a world deeply changed from that that it was. He liked the practicality of it all, the self- sufficiency, though he had to admit, on deeper consideration that it was unlikely he'd been the one to think this up. No, that was more Amelia's field. The ruthless pragmatism that she hid behind had undoubtedly thought these sleeping arrangements far superior to any that would allow both to get a good nights sleep.  
  
But then she had also thought they should maintain separate areas of ground, a notion she had finally been broken off when he'd had to shake her awake one February eve when hip skin and lips were tinged with blue. Body heat, was her excuse these days, and had absolutely nothing to do with the comfort one lonely person could receive from the sheer vicinity of another. He knew the real reason as well as she did, but she followed her head down a road his muggle mother would have called hard-nosed and perhaps even cruel, while Jonny, Jonathon Harperson, continued to let his heart rule his actions.  
  
Not that the heart was a bad master. Just that his desire to help any and all they met in their exile had led the two of them into difficulties time and again. He shuddered to think of them, turning his gaze from the cold glare of dark clouds to the blond locks that spilled over his shirt from the head that lolled against his shoulder.  
  
He liked her better when she was sleeping. When he could look beyond the present to the past, beyond the pain to the old smile. True, he had barely known her when they'd both been at Hogwarts, the boundaries of school year, sex and house membership giving them little reason to know anything of each other save name, but he'd noticed that smile. And that hair, the messy dark blonde locks more often seen under a hat, or hidden behind a book. Amelia had been different then, soft enough to allow her housemates to re- christen her Millie and shy enough to blush anytime anyone spoke to her. But he had been so different then too, more suited to the shortened easiness of "Jonny", quick to laugh, happy to follow the traditions of Gryffindor into the realm of practical jokes. A boy, young, hopeful, a million miles but only two years distant from the man he was today. From the first wizard in his family to the war hardened teen that slept with both wand and knife close to hand. From child to the necessity-born killer who felt so much so acutely in these dark days.  
  
Shutting a mental door hard on that thought Jonny turned his attention back to the watch.  
  
The darkness loomed through the rain, and, though little of the water hit them, Jonny felt damp and cold from the storm. Hidden as they were, bundled against the stones of this ruined keep, they should be safe from prying eyes, at least superficially so. Perhaps the danger would pass them by tonight, one more night to live, then maybe one more day tomorrow, maybe one after that. He felt that he'd never quite understood the phrases 'living hand to mouth' or 'one day at a time' until that was what his life had become. He tried to think back, remember what that boy of fifteen, eager and keen in his fourth year of Hogwarts, had wanted from life. He was sure it was more than plain existence, more than a desire for enough food to eat, enough luck to survive the night.  
  
Jonny looks away, not wanting to focus on how and when everything had went wrong, there were too many dates with significance. Too many battles lost, too many friends dead, too many familiar faces on the other side and all too willing to cull any impurities from their society.  
  
As if on cue to distract him from his memories, Amelia stirs against his shoulder, waking, as she does every night to finish the watch.  
  
"How is it?" A sleep-filled voice. It's always like this, she'll awake on cue and rather than take a second to clear her head, she's straight to business, starting her day with a drowsy enquiry.  
  
"It's cold," he replies simply.  
  
"It's always cold," comes the automatic response.  
  
He shrugs, there's not much you can say to fact. He can't remember when he last spent the night under a roof, was there a barn a month back, or a shed? He doesn't bother to press his memory, aware that his portion of the night is over, it's now Amelia's turn to face her demons in the coming dawn.  
  
"Go to sleep," she urges, settling herself against the stone, knees pulled up to her chin. "I'll wake you if anything should happen."  
  
He smiles a sleepy smile he hopes is reassuring, he feels responsible for this girl, even though it her wits that have saved both of them on occasion.  
  
"Sure you don't want company?" he asks, as he does every night.  
  
"I'll be fine," she answers, "go to sleep."  
  
But his head is already nodding, the enquiry is more habit than offer, and for now he can barely keep his eyes open. It's always the way, wide awake until he's relieved, then out like a light once she's given the word. He exists as exhausted, trailing from one shelter to another, forever on the move. Any moment he can let go of enough to actually sleep is precious.  
  
Jonny leans back against the wall, leaving her the watch and their safety.  
  
The last thing he glimpses, before sleep claims him, is a determined sixteen year old girl, staring intensely at the darkness, as if by force of will she can keep the horrors at bay.  
  
*****  
  
End Chapter One.  
  
Feedback is good. Feedback is nice. Feedback makes Redtoes write faster and actually provide a story for Jonny and Amelia to play with. 


	2. The Blood on her Hands

Harry Potter: Dark Days  
  
Disclaimer: I make no claims on the world, the spells or the terms JK Rowling has created for Harry Potter. This is my interpretation, my Alternate Universe. I hope you like it.  
  
Blood on her hands...  
  
By Redtoes  
  
The bushes were a problem. Constantly snagging their cloaks, scratching their skin, slowing them down. The bushes were always a problem and, save once when the two of them had been running for their lives, they'd never been able to move quickly through the undergrowth. And that time Jonny'd ended up with so many deep scratches that Amelia had actually had to pull thorns out of his skin.  
  
He shuddered a little at the thought, and resumed trying to pull his cloak free of the thorn bush in which it had become entangled. It took a hard yank, and the sound of fabric ripping before he could finally step away from the ugly plant, and, turning he saw it would take more than that for Amelia to break free.  
  
Jonny had long ago abandoned the long flowing robes of the wizarding world, finding them too easily identified by muggles as out of place, especially when worn by a man. The long sleeves and ankle length material had been happily put aside after one day trying, and failing the struggle through woodland. He kept his cloak. Something in him just couldn't quite give up his cloak - it was so useful so sleeping under, hiding under, and better than any muggle jacket for keeping him warm, though he wore a fleece as well these days. But Amelia had refused to abandon the only style of clothing she'd ever known, thinking it beneath her to drop the flowing robes in favour of simpler attire.  
  
He noticed her staring enviously at his jeans and warm fleece recently though, and had filed away the thought that next time he offered her normal (despite six years in the magical world he still had his doubts about the clothing) apparel she might be convinced to at last give up that troublesome robe.  
  
"Do you need help?" He asked pointedly.  
  
Amelia glared at him, pausing in her attempts to free herself long enough to let him see the silent fury in her eyes.  
  
"Is that a no?" he queried, all the time thinking that it was this form of baiting that caused explorers to be eaten by the cannibals in far away places.  
  
She didn't deign to respond.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Jonny knew she'd crack eventually, despite the many rents and tears in her clothing, she seemed to value it deeply, and could never bring herself to rip it, even to break free. He had no such qualms, and couldn't help wondering, as he had in the past, what it was that made her so attached to this clothing - she was so deadly, so practical in all other things.  
  
Amelia threw her hands up, her signal for admitted defeat, and nodded slightly.  
  
Smiling good-naturedly Jonny made his way back to her, ignoring the thorns that tried to catch him, pulling himself through with only a few small rips appearing.  
  
"I don't see why we have to go through this," Amelia sniffed, "No one in the right mind would take this way."  
  
Jonny smiled a little, she knew as well as he that any easy way was watched. The hard way was all that remained, but then this was what Amelia did. When faced with an enemy, a difficulty, a challenge she was at her best, quick and eager to dole out solutions to their problems. It was the day-to-day living that got to her, the small hardships, like no beds and constant travelling down thorny paths, that made her uneasy. He, in contrast, could survive the small things, but still had difficulty with embracing the practicalities of their existence. The necessity of killing an enemy. The never-ending fight just to survive another day.  
  
Reaching her, Jonny was able to free her easily, gathering the fabric in his fists and ripping it away from the bushes with a sound that made her wince.  
  
Both of them free, he looked down at her from his skinny height.  
  
"When are you gonna get rid of this bloody clothing?"  
  
"It's not bloody - "  
  
"Amelia." He interrupted her automatic answer.  
  
She looked away, then back.  
  
"Maybe," she said in a small voice, "next time we see something..." She left the words dangling, and he had to restrain himself from cheering. This part of their lives was his domain, he happily acquiesced to her leadership, her knowledge in her realm of their existence, it was about time she listened to him on the realities of how to survive.  
  
"Come on," he said, pulling on her arm to make her walk, "Maybe we can find somewhere to sleep tonight."  
  
Together they moved through the undergrowth, and though he knew he should've let go of her the second she followed, he found he couldn't quite conjure up enough reasons to do so.  
  
After a few minutes, Jonny's hand slid down her arm, finding her hand, and Amelia let him lead her though the undergrowth, battling as ever, against the pull of thorns on their clothing.  
  
*****  
  
She didn't know where they were going.  
  
She hadn't known for months. Oh she knew their destination as he did, but the day to day realities of journey and arrival surpassed her. In so many ways, the girl who was Amelia Tunner didn't exist between one battle and another, dragged as she was by this boy about the country.  
  
He was leading them now, deeper through this wood.  
  
She wondered absently which wood it was.  
  
Maybe Jonny knew. He always seemed to know where they were - it was as if he carried a map in his head. A detailed, evil map that showed only the woodlands and wetlands of the country, only the places where no one in the right mind would actually tread. At least this was better than the fens, the cold, dank, wet fens where she never felt completely dry no matter what they tried.  
  
But then what if he didn't know?  
  
Did it actually matter anymore?  
  
Amelia let herself be led, let Jonny take this, his field of responsibility, while thinking all the time about hers:  
  
The fight.  
  
Her fight.  
  
She closed her eyes, trusting Jonny to guide her, as she let her conscious mind slip back to the last blood on her hands...  
  
*****  
  
She remembered thinking, in some far-flung corner of her mind that stayed aloft and thoughtful during combat, how strange it was that these things always seemed to happen at night. She fought by starlight, the dull gleam of the moon both hiding and hindering her prey.  
  
Hiding and hindering her.  
  
Amelia pressed her back against the tree bark, breathing, thinking. Her opponent was older than her, a man at least in his forties maybe even fifties, grey-haired, moving with a limp. Well, there was one weakness - she was younger and able bodied therefore faster. But she was younger, she might know less, despite her feverish study of duelling texts since childhood.  
  
There'd already been an Imperious curse shot over her head, as well as two others she couldn't identify. Amelia wasn't sure, but she suspected this man wasn't trying to kill her.  
  
He wanted to catch her.  
  
Well she wanted him dead, so that gave her a few more options.  
  
Amelia dropped to her knees to peer around the tree trunk, using her slight of form to its best advantage, stealth.  
  
The clearing was empty, still. For a second she wondered where Jonny was and whether he was safe. After a few close encounters she'd insisted he let her handle these duels alone, but she suspected he was never far enough away. Always worrying, always doubting - she had no doubt her erstwhile protector would be hovering somewhere nearby, waiting to see if she needed him.  
  
He'd be there if she did, but he lacked the stomach for this work. He'd almost got the pair of them killed too often before she banished him to a distance.  
  
He'd been there when he was needed though, hadn't he -  
  
Abruptly Amelia shook her head, clearing it. Now wasn't the time to think about that.  
  
She grasped her wand tighter, harder and focused her thoughts.  
  
Where was he? Where was her prey?  
  
Concentrating she cast her mind outwards, searching, heightening her awareness in the way her father taught her as a child.  
  
Slowly she became aware of the trees, the bushes, the grass and scrub. She could feel the life force of each thing around her, the dull throb of the trees, the lighter, softer pitch of the flowers.  
  
She relaxed into her search, reaching, grasping with her mind. This wasn't magic, or at least not magic as she'd been taught in school, this was instinct, a family trick honed and sharpened at her father's knee. A parlour trick, without which she'd have been dead long ago.  
  
Amelia stretched - pushing her mind further outwards and -  
  
There!  
  
To the right, a thirty degree angle, hiding, as she was, behind a tree.  
  
The life-force flickered, weaker suddenly.  
  
Amelia cocked her head, thoughtful. Maybe his leg was hurting him, maybe she'd caught him with one of her earlier attacks, it could be anything.  
  
Her prey strengthened, his momentary weakness gone. He stumbled to his feet, stood, then slowly started to creep out of hiding place, trusting the darkness to mask him.  
  
Amelia "watched" all through closed eyes. Waiting, waiting -  
  
- and as her target passed the bushes she threw herself out to the side, creating a perfect line of sight to launch -  
  
"Excristo!"  
  
Her father's favourite curse, one that had saved his life many times before, and her chosen weapon in this conflict.  
  
A prefect hit, the collarbone above the heart, but Amelia didn't wait to check, rolling out of sight behind some brush.  
  
Her prey stumbled, searching for her amongst the trees, but to no avail. He clutched his chest, collapsing to the floor, his breathing becoming ragged and heavy with pain.  
  
She, like her father before, did not ascribe to the rules of duel honour, believing that any fight you walk away from is one you win, regardless of the circumstances. But she hated the aura that those in pain projected upon her senses, heightened as they were from his conflict.  
  
Careful to keep out of sight Amelia slowly rose to her feet and turned to face her downed prey in the centre of the clearing.  
  
There was nothing further to be gained here, no reason to prolong this. Raising her wand she spoke softly into the darkness;  
  
"Finatum."  
  
And felt the last vestiges of life fly her opponent in the darkness.  
  
She was victorious. Again. And as before she felt nothing save a slight relief that she could continue her existence. She wondered if, had she died, she would feel the same slight relief at her troubles being over.  
  
It was a disconcerting thought, and she left it, striding forward to examine the body.  
  
On cue, Jonny appeared in the shadows on the other side of the glade. He watched her anxiously, his face lined with worry.  
  
She didn't have the words to answer his unspoken, unnecessary questions. Yes, she was alive. Yes, she was unhurt. To talk was too complicated. Too hard.  
  
Meeting his gaze, she shrugged, straightening her robes. Then had to look away from the expression he wore - joy and happiness, victory and relief. He hated this fight and she didn't begrudge him that, but the happiness he felt at her continued existence shamed her. She should have felt that, been able to celebrate this victory with her companion, instead of lapsing back into the semi-catatonia that marked her days without battle.  
  
Jonny, meanwhile, had made his way across the ground and was fussing.  
  
She blew him off with a gesture, stooping to examine the contents of the dead man's pockets.  
  
*****  
  
He'd bled before he died, she remembered, and she'd stained her hands as she searched for nothing.  
  
Involuntarily, she looked down, staring at the palm of her free hand, grubby with the muck of this harsh life. There was no blood to be seen, but it was there. She could feel it.  
  
She must have made a sound, because Jonny had stopped, turned to her, worry once more etched across his features.  
  
"Are you okay?" He furrowed his brow.  
  
"Fine," she replied dismissively, but she didn't pull her hand from his, and made no objection when, after a few seconds of concerned contemplation, he resumed leading her though the woods.  
  
Woods.  
  
Everything was woodlands these days too. Darkness and woodlands.  
  
Amelia suppressed a shudder, and resisted the urge to hold Jonny's hand tighter. That would do no good.  
  
She'd secured their existence for another day, that was her role, just as his was to get her through that day, keep her moving.  
  
Maybe next time she'd trade in these robes for a fleece like his. Though she wasn't honestly sure she could give her old life up just yet. Give up her father. Her family.  
  
Though they were dead and she was not.  
  
Burying her memories under a haze of logic and half-remembered lessons Amelia focused on the next battle, the one to come.  
  
She trusted Jonny to see her through the day, keep her going, keep her well. She had to make sure she could keep her end, keep them both safe.  
  
Trusting her way to his guidance Amelia closed her eyes, and reached out, training her senses for the next opponent she'd have to face.  
  
******  
  
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	3. New Dangers

Harry Potter: Dark Days  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise is mine. So please don't sue  
  
Part three - New Dangers  
  
By Redtoes  
  
It was, of course, Amelia who spotted the danger first, though it was Jonny who was on watch. He wondered sometimes why it was that she insisted on maintaining the watch, when she always awoke anytime anything came near them. When had it been, he thought absently as he swiftly climbed through tree branches searching for a good defensive spot, that Amelia had ever not awoken crying of danger and it had not appeared. Sometimes he thought she was a seer. Or a harbinger, calling death and danger to them by just speaking its name.  
  
But that was unfair, he thought as he quickly settled himself amongst the branches. Her talent, her magical radar had saved them often enough for him to respect it.  
  
But one of these days, he vowed silently, he was going to sit her down and find out exactly how it was she did it.  
  
But not today.  
  
Jonny steeled himself as the noises increased. It sounded like just one person, one person running headlong into these woods.  
  
It sounded just like the noises that he and Amelia had made when they'd had to run for their lives in the past, careless of path in their fear of their followers.  
  
And it was getting closer.  
  
Jonny risked a glance below. Nothing. Amelia had, as always, found herself a place to hide on the ground while sending him, as always, out of immediate danger.  
  
He both loved and hated her for it.  
  
But now wasn't the time for that. Something was drawing near, something loud. And just because it sounded panicked was no reason to think it wasn't dangerous.  
  
Jonny concentrated, aiming his wand, a disarming spell ready on his lips, waiting for whomever it was to break through the bushes and show themselves.  
  
The shrubbery across the glade from him shook, then parted, to reveal -  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
- a child, hit hard by the spell, thrown backwards in the air to land with a dull thud against a tree trunk.  
  
"No!" Jonny cried, swinging his legs over the branch and dropping to the ground. He was running across the clearing before he knew it, wanting to intercept Amelia before she reached the boy.  
  
For a boy it was, no older than eight or nine. With wide terrified eyes staring out from behind a mask of bloody grime.  
  
"Don't hurt him," Jonny said, pulling Amelia's wand away from the boy.  
  
"Jonny," he could feel her anger, her exasperation burning along his skin like fire. He was too close to her, too close to the inferno of hatred she used to fight these battles.  
  
"He's just a child," Jonny pleaded, trying to bring back to herself. "Look at him."  
  
She did, but her eyes stayed the same, deadly hatred behind a glass window. Absently he wondered if that window would ever break, and exactly how many people she'd take with her when it did.  
  
The boy was plainly terrified, pressing himself against the tree bark as if he wanted to hide inside it. His eyes were wide, and flicking from Jonny to Amelia, unsure and uncertain.  
  
"Amelia," he said, grasping her shoulders and forced her to look at him. "You can't kill a kid, I won't let you.  
  
"What are you running from?" he asked, letting go of Amelia to address the kid. The boy stared at him stunned, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.  
  
"Who's after you?" Jonny tried again, kneeling down beside the boy.  
  
"Bad men," the kid croaked quietly. "They killed -" His voice broke into a sob. "They killed my -" Tears broke through, spilling over his cheeks.  
  
Jonny looked up at Amelia.  
  
"Bad men," he said, willing her to understand, "Death eaters."  
  
"No," she said sternly, "we can't afford another. We barely survive ourselves."  
  
"I won't leave him," Jonny replied.  
  
"Then you'll die," she said neutrally.  
  
"Then you'll die," he responded, "You can't survive without me."  
  
She stared, then glared at him.  
  
"He's coming with us." Jonny added.  
  
"You wouldn't survive with me," she said coldly, "You'd be dead in the next battle."  
  
"I know," he said, offering her a hand. "But we work well together."  
  
She ignored the hand, turning instead to survey the surrounding trees. Jonny watched her, silently, the boy still caught up in quiet tears beside him.  
  
"You'll have to carry him," she said shortly, "We need to move fast if we're going to outrun them."  
  
"How many?" Jonny asked as he gathered the child into his arms, grateful for her begrudging approval.  
  
"Three. From the west."  
  
Jonny got to his feet, the child curled around his chest, face buried in his neck.  
  
"You sure?"  
  
She gave him a withering look.  
  
"Okay," he muttered, finding his balance under two armfuls of twitching child and the constant weight of the light pack on his back.  
  
"Let's go," she said, disappearing into the trees. Heading east.  
  
Jonny looked at the kid in his arms.  
  
"What's your name?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Albus," came the answer, muffled as it was by his tears.  
  
"Okay Albus," Jonny replied, "Let's go catch up with her, shall we?"  
  
Albus sniffled a little, but said nothing. Which suited Jonny, as now he had to focus all his being on keeping up with the unburdened Amelia, and keeping all of them alive.  
  
******  
  
A child. A dirty, smelly child. A child that is of no use, just something else that needs to be protected.  
  
Amelia snorted as she dashed through the trees. This was typical Jonny. Emotional. Unreliable. A bleeding heart desperate to save all and look what happened, they suddenly had a child to take care of.  
  
It wasn't like they had enough food anyway. Or bedding. And a child couldn't sleep under the stairs every night. A child would need nurture and care. A child wouldn't be able to keep up.  
  
That child was going to place them all in jeopardy.  
  
Amelia ducked low under a branch as she ran, letting her instincts guide her through the wood. She moved through the perils of the forest with little awareness of her path, leaping a root there, swerving around a bush here. Her conscious mind was reaching, trying desperately to feel where everything was.  
  
There was Jonny and the brat and there and there were their pursuers. She couldn't find the third and that made her nervous.  
  
She cast her mind outwards as she dashed between trees, over ditches and the treacherous burrows of small animals. Had she been aware of how easily she'd almost broken her ankle here and nearly brained herself there she probably would have moved with more care. But she trusted her instincts, trusted her unconscious mind to keep her safe while she searched with the conscious.  
  
There.  
  
Circling from the north, but far enough away to negate any threat. What bothered her more was how he knew to circle, how he knew where they were?  
  
Unless he could reach too.  
  
Dammit.  
  
South, they had to go south.  
  
She jerked to a stop, causing Jonny to run into her. They thudded together, that infernal child between them. She resisted the urge to send it a dirty look, this was after all its fault, but knew she couldn't spare the energy.  
  
"South," she said quickly to Jonny. "Go quickly, south, then hide."  
  
He watched her warily, his breath coming in great gulps.  
  
"What are you going to do?" He asked softly.  
  
She could taste his worry on her tongue, her senses lapped it up like water. And something else, a dark purple something that hovered around him, his concern, his care for her. It was like wine to her exhausted and over-stretched mind.  
  
"Lead them away," she said simply, forcing her awareness of him back to a normal level. "I'll find you. Go south. I'll find you."  
  
He stared at her, unsure of what to say.  
  
"Go," she urged. She could feel the battle coming on. He couldn't be there.  
  
"Amelia," he started, but she cut him off.  
  
"Go!"  
  
Abruptly he nodded, stepping back from her but stopped there. Not running. Not moving.  
  
"I'll find you," he said with a small smile.  
  
"No," she said, "I'll find you. Now go!"  
  
Without another word she plunged into the darkness, leaving him to stare after her.  
  
Running through the trees she cast her awareness back, and found him as she wanted him, moving south.  
  
Good, she thought, then turned north, moving to face the threat.  
  
*****  
  
End Part three  
  
Please review - I'd love to know what you think. 


	4. Old Alliances

Harry Potter: Dark Days  
  
Author's Note - it's great to hear that everyone likes this but to answer some questions - no this isn't a fic about Dumbledore. It's set two years after Harry's last battle with Voldemort, a battle the Boy that Lived lost. It's a dark future tale, not a dark past one. Albus, well Albus will be revealed in due course, but suffice to say he's not Dumbledore though he was named for everyone's favourite headmaster. Amelia and Jonny's destination is more complex but you won't hear about it in this chapter, try the next one. Anyone who guesses correctly gets a gold star.  
  
Disclaimer - If you can recognise it, it isn't mine.  
  
Part Four - Old Alliances  
  
By Redtoes.  
  
Amelia moved through the woods like a predator, silent and deadly. Her senses fully extended and her wand ready in her hand.  
  
She moved close to the ground, shadow to shadow. Her target was about thirty feet in front of her, moving with practiced grace through the trees. This prey was young, twenties maybe, with no physical weaknesses she could sense at this distance. It felt dangerous.  
  
That gave her pause. Her prey wasn't usually dangerous. Death Eaters in the prime of their life were rarely sent after the minor nuisances such as Jonny and herself. In fact it was rare that anyone was sent after the two of them, more that they ran into patrols sent out to apprehend any and all that didn't fulfil the pureblood mentality.  
  
Why was this prey, this danger, chasing that child?  
  
What was there about that child that required this kind of pursuit?  
  
Snap!  
  
Amelia froze in her step. That hadn't been her. And it hadn't come from her prey thirty feet in front of her. It had come from behind -  
  
Amelia spun, wand at the ready -  
  
"Excristo!"  
  
An almost silent curse, but no less in intensity.  
  
There was a dull thud along the edge of her perception - she'd hit something, but what?  
  
Reaching just far enough to be sure that her forward prey was still unaware, she slipped through the bushes to find a young women curled on the ground, her breath coming in harsh gasps and gulps over a bloody chest wound.  
  
Despite her pain, the young woman's eyes were remarkably clear.  
  
"You?" She gasped, staring up at Amelia, who felt suddenly lost.  
  
"Yes," she floundered, searching for words in the face suffering she herself had inflicted.  
  
The young women's eyes narrowed.  
  
"He'll find you," she sneered. "You can't escape."  
  
Threats however Amelia could deal with.  
  
"Stupefy," she said coldly.  
  
She watched with a certain amount of satisfaction as the women's eyes blanked. Then wondered why it was that she hadn't killed her.  
  
Too late to dwell on it now.  
  
With something that might have been a sigh on her lips, Amelia turned back to her hunt.  
  
To see her prey aiming an ebony wand straight at her, a dangerous expression on his face.  
  
*****  
  
Jonny was beginning to regret taking the kid. Not finding the kid, or helping the kid, but taking the kid. This was the first time since their uneasy alliance had been formed that he wasn't right there to help Amelia if she needed him.  
  
And that bothered him far more than he cared to admit.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't think she could take care of herself, he knew she could. He just also knew that she, for all her confidence and ability, was but sixteen, and couldn't hope to match the power of an adult wizard with anything less than every advantage she could get. Tonight she was up against three. Three!  
  
The thought made his palms itch.  
  
As ordered, Jonny and Albus had gone to ground about half a mile out from their last sighting of Amelia. Two huge oak trees that had intertwined and grown over each for centuries had provided the perfect cover and Jonny had wasted little time getting both himself and his charge secluded amongst their branches.  
  
Now all he had to do was wait.  
  
The thought made his palms itch.  
  
Clenching his fists, and searching desperately for a distraction he turned to the boy half-nestled in a hollow in the trunk.  
  
"You okay Albus?"  
  
He'd had to admit he'd been shocked to hear that name. Albus. Dumbledore. Two years...and five before that. Too many memories to echo painfully round his head in these dark days. Shaking the thought loose, Jonny realised that the boy had yet to answer him.  
  
"Albus?"  
  
Two dark eyes stared out of the tree at him, shadows hiding the rest of their owner's small body.  
  
"You can talk to me," Jonny tried, using his best soothing tone, "you're safe now."  
  
The kid sniffed.  
  
"I'll never be safe," he said, tonelessly, staring blankly past the elder boy.  
  
"No," Jonny admitted, "you won't." He thought of impossible odds and a meagre existence that neither of them had expected to last this long. Of young blond girls who lived for hatred and revenge. Of surviving a massacre, or living to prevent one.  
  
Abruptly the teen ran his hands through his shaggy hair, this was all too much. These burdens should have fallen on far stronger shoulders than his. "But this is as good as it gets" he added, trying to find any kind of solace he could offer the child. "All we can do is try."  
  
"Though eventually," he added softly to himself, "our luck will run out."  
  
He just hoped it wasn't going to be today.  
  
*****  
  
Amelia stared down the wand, looking for all intents and purposes into the face of death.  
  
"I know you," her former prey said nonchalantly, as if this was idle small talk at one of her mother's functions all those years ago.  
  
"I doubt it," she replied.  
  
"No," he said, narrowing his eyes, "I know you." The man tilted his head to aside, considering her. Not that there was much to consider, Amelia thought. She was a teenager, and a dirty one at that, her long instilled habits of personal appearance and cleanliness having disapparated along with the likelihood of sleeping in a bed or under a roof. It was for the best, she thought idly, that Jonny did the cooking. She wouldn't like to think what she might find under her nails or in her meagre meals should that task have fallen to her.  
  
"I know you," he repeated softly, as he tried to place her. "Hogwarts?" he offered.  
  
Amelia resisted the urge to snort. A teenager, in wizarding robes, but without a European accent. He might has well have said "female?" or "British?" in his attempts to narrow down her identity.  
  
"Yes," he smiled sadistically, "You were at Hogwarts?"  
  
"And?" she asked petulantly. She had to admit, even now as she faced her death she felt little beyond a kind of mild exasperation for the inane questions it asked. She wondered absently what good withholding her name would do this situation. Should she manage to escape it would give them a reason to search for her, though she suspected that anyone with any brains would not have thought she died in that attack. Even Death Eaters with their limited intelligence could count and someone must have noticed that Charles Tunner's family was one body short.  
  
"What's your name," her questioner asked, still in that same half- interested, half-amused tone.  
  
She thought about being awkward, but decided that would only forestall death, not prevent it, in addition to which she was bored.  
  
"Tunner," she offered, "Amelia Tunner."  
  
"You had a brother?" It was more of a comment than a question. "Edward. Eddie."  
  
Now it was her turn to narrow her eyes. What business did this man have to speak of her brother in such familiar terms?  
  
"I was in Slytherin when he was in Ravenclaw," the man offered, a touch of embarrassment slipping into his tone.  
  
Amelia looked closely at him. Yes, he was about the right age, the same age Ed would have been if -  
  
"And?" she repeated, this conversation was doing her no good, just prolonging the moment. She knew that Jonny and that child - that cursed child - were beyond her reach, therefore safe and couldn't think of any reason why this man should hesitate long enough to make it worth her while.  
  
But hesitate he did, stepping closer as if to examine her face.  
  
"I met you once," he offered, "at the station. Kings Cross. In London. You couldn't have been more than eight or nine."  
  
Amelia shrugged, more than a little perplexed at this new development.  
  
"I met a lot of people," she said blankly.  
  
"There was another one, " he moved closer, his wand wavered slightly before rising again to aim at her heart, "A baby."  
  
"There was," Amelia commented, watching his approach. The drop of the wand had not passed her by, and that aloft logical corner of her mind was telling her there was an opportunity here, not to be missed. "Sarah," she offered the Death Eater, wanting to keep him talking. "That was Sarah."  
  
"Sarah," he rolled the name in his mouth, as though testing an unfamiliar spell. "Sarah."  
  
Amelia fought to keep her features blank. Now was not the time to think, not the time to remember, especially not if that wand drops again and you have to act quickly. She'd cried her tears and these words, these names had no sway on her now. No sway. Thought Amelia wasn't sure who she was trying to convince with that attitude, herself or her enemy.  
  
Abruptly the Death Eater looked at her, his head tilted in thought. He was close now, almost close enough, almost. She just had to keep him moving that little bit longer.  
  
"How did you escape?" he asked curiously, stepping in.  
  
"Simple," she said with a shrug. "I wasn't there to begin with."  
  
And with that she threw up her hands, knocking his wand upwards in the same moment she dropped her body to the ground, sending his quick curse spiralling away over her head, into the darkness.  
  
He staggered, bringing his wand to bear on her the same moment her knife made contact with his abdomen, slicing through clothing and skin with ease.  
  
At heart all (or at least most) wizards were human, and her enemy did as she'd guessed, grasping his stomach with both hands as he fell to the ground in pain.  
  
The ebony wand fell away, out of reach, and Amelia wasted no time in bringing hers to bear on her fallen prey.  
  
He looked up at her, pain and panic written across his face.  
  
"Amelia?" He was going to beg.  
  
She hated begging.  
  
"Finatum" she ordered, watching as the life issued from him, sucked out through his wound.  
  
Dead.  
  
She stared down at him, this man who'd known her, known her brother and wondered what his name had been.  
  
"That's a good spell." Jonny stepped out from a tree behind the body, his face decidedly neutral.  
  
"It works," she said softly, "but it needs a wound to draw from."  
  
"Ah," he said, looking down at the body between them. "Are you - " he started to ask.  
  
"I'm fine," she interrupted. "Where's the brat?"  
  
"Safe," he answered, watching her carefully. He looked down again at the body.  
  
"He knew me," she said involuntarily, the words rung from her by his presence.  
  
"I heard."  
  
Amelia shuffled a little on her feet, feeling uncomfortable.  
  
"We should go," she offered, weakly and disliking the weakness.  
  
"Where's the third?" Jonny asked, looking over to where the stunned women lay.  
  
"I don't know. Wait." Amelia closed her eyes briefly, reaching out and -  
  
"He's gone," she said shortly, "too far east. Past us."  
  
"Okay," he acknowledged, his eyes on the woman. After a second he looked up. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
This time, Amelia didn't bother to stifle her snort, choosing instead to turn and make her way towards where she felt the child, hovering nervously on the edge of her awareness.  
  
*****  
  
End Part Four  
  
Reviewers are wonderful, wonderful people whom I love and adore. So please review. 


	5. Questions and Answers

Harry Potter: Dark Days  
  
Author's note - Bit of an angsty chapter this one so beware, though you do get a touch more insight into Amelia and Albus along with the tears and stress. Apologies for a lack of action but they can't be running all the time, every now and then they need to rest, re-coup, and answer a few questions before they can get back on track.  
  
Author's note 2 - I upped the rating on this story from PG to PG-13 after the death and mayhem in the previous chapter. The story's not going to include much more than violence to gain it this rating, but I just want to be on the safe side with the whole murder/necessary killing themes.  
  
Disclaimer - You think if I actually owned Harry Potter I would kill him? Well I might, but I don't so anything you recognise here isn't mine.  
  
Part Five: Questions and Answers  
  
By Redtoes  
  
The silence was killing him.  
  
"Say something," he urged his silent companion. "Anything."  
  
Amelia paused in her step, turning to look at him.  
  
"Why?" she asked simply.  
  
Jonny forced down his exasperation with an effort.  
  
"Because it's too bloody quiet."  
  
Amelia raised an eyebrow.  
  
"What exactly," she asked, "would you like me to say?"  
  
Jonny considered. He and Amelia were effectively alone, Albus having taking advantage of the daylight to walk some distance apart from his new companions. This was likely to be one of the few private moments they'd get for the foreseeable future.  
  
"Amelia," he started, then paused, not quite sure where to go next. "Amelia," he tried again.  
  
"Yes Jonny?" she said neutrally, but with a slight touch of amusement. Her eyes, so often dark with memory and anger, seemed to twinkle briefly in the sunlight.  
  
"Oh for God's sake," he threw his hands up, "Talk about whatever you want."  
  
"Okay," she said watching him carefully. "If you're sure."  
  
"I am." He turned his head so she wouldn't see the scowl etched across his features.  
  
"Albus!" Her cry snapped his head back around to stare at her.  
  
"Albus?" she called again.  
  
"What are you doing?" Jonny gaped.  
  
Amelia tilted her head, the touch of amusement he'd noticed earlier in her tone subtly visible in her features.  
  
"Talking," she answered simply.  
  
It took more than a few calls to attract Albus out of the bushes, but slowly, after a promise of chocolate and a vow of safety, the boy had appeared, eyeing them suspiciously.  
  
"What d'you want?"  
  
"To talk," Amelia called back. "Jonny thinks we should talk."  
  
Behind her Jonny sputtered a denial. She ignored him.  
  
"Come out," she called again, "You owe us that much."  
  
"Yeah," Jonny added, "She did save your life Albus."  
  
Amelia turned to regard him, an odd expression on her face. He ignored her, moving forward to confront the boy.  
  
"She scares me," Albus admitted, once Jonny was close enough to hear an undertone.  
  
"Yeah, she scares me too sometimes," the older boy admitted, "but she won't hurt you. She's your friend."  
  
"Then how come you had to tell her my name," came the accusation.  
  
"Because," Jonny sighed, "She was too busy fighting off Death Eaters to learn it when I did. Happy?"  
  
Albus scowled but allowed Jonny to lead him to Amelia, where he continued to eye her with a mixture of disgust and fear.  
  
The kid was different in daylight, Jonny mused. Last night he'd been clingy, almost dangerously so, but today wild horses couldn't drag him where he didn't want to go.  
  
And he wasn't keen on going to Amelia.  
  
"Hello Albus," she said neutrally, bending a little so she could talk to him at eye level. "I'm Amelia."  
  
"I know," the child scowled, "he told me."  
  
"Of course," she replied simply. If there was any surprise or suspicion in her at the child's vehemence she showed none of it. Inwardly Jonny marvelled at that self control. He was too easy to read, too willing to help to school his expressions so carefully. Maybe Albus was right to be nervous of Amelia, she certainly had a cold exterior when she wished it.  
  
He came back from his thoughts to see Amelia and Albus seated opposite each other on the ground. Amelia held one hand hovering over the boy's forehead, her eyes half closed as she concentrated. Albus tolerated her nearness blankly, and with something akin to fascination in his eyes.  
  
Shortly Amelia withdrew her hand, and opened her eyes to look deep into the dark pupils of the child before her. Jonny let out a deep breath, not realising he'd held it all that while.  
  
"You're mother was a witch," Amelia said softly, not breaking her focus on Albus. "What was your father?"  
  
Albus shifted uncomfortably on the ground.  
  
It's okay, Jonny wanted to say, you can tell us. But somehow, watching this odd communion had rendered him mute. He felt oddly excluded from this conversation. As though he was watching it from behind glass, from far away.  
  
Amelia cocked her head, watching the child closely.  
  
"You didn't know your father," she murmured.  
  
Albus eyes glared at her.  
  
"I knew my Dad," he spat at her.  
  
"You knew a father. Your mother's husband." He serenity was addictive Jonny noted, even Albus was feeling the effect, his hostility lessening under her gaze.  
  
Man he wanted to know how she did this.  
  
"He was my Dad."  
  
"A muggle."  
  
"Yeah," Albus looked away, "he didn't like what Mum were. Said it caused trouble."  
  
"And they came for her." Amelia wasn't so much asking questions as just giving Albus the spaces to fill in the conversation.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"And your stepfather too."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"But you got away."  
  
"They said they wanted sport," Albus' voice shook on the words.  
  
"Sport." Now Amelia's tone was different, harder. Jonny could feel the familiar hatred, the harsh anger that she'd put aside for those moments with Albus flooding back.  
  
The moment lengthened and broke, the calmness of the conversation scattered to the winds by Amelia's abrupt emotional shift.  
  
Jonny knelt down, his eyes first seeking those of the boy, who was fine if a little tearful, before shifting to his friend, his partner in this life, his constant companion and protector.  
  
Amelia.  
  
She stared back at him, her eyes heavy with hate. They held the moment, his worry against her anger, her revenge.  
  
Abruptly, Albus gave a small sob, breaking their glance as both turned to see tears running down the child's cheeks.  
  
All at once he moved, hurtling himself at the two of them, seeking comfort, seeking safety, seeking something -  
  
Jonny caught him but was knocked back on impact into Amelia, and was stunned to discover a few moments later that his were not the only arms entwined. For Amelia was hunched around the crying Albus, her body shaking with silent sobs.  
  
Slowly, easily Jonny extended his embrace to include both, pulling them tight into his chest and giving them as much comfort as they allowed.  
  
******  
  
Albus murmured as Jonny set him down on the cave floor, Amelia stretching their one blanket over the sleeping boy. Satisfied the two of them withdrew, then stared down at the child, their new responsibility in this dangerous world.  
  
Amelia thought he was strangely beautiful, despite the drool that decorated his mouth and mess of his hair. He reminded her of Sarah a little, though Sarah had never grown this old, or gotten this messy in her short life. She smiled ruefully at the thought. Sarah never had a chance, but Albus might. If they could keep him safe.  
  
She looked up to find Jonny watching her, an odd expression on his face. Slowly he reached out to take her hand, then led her out to the entrance of the cave.  
  
He paused there, dropping her hand in the soft starlight.  
  
Together, and apart, they stared out into the darkness, on watch together for the first time in their alliance.  
  
"You okay?" he murmured after a while.  
  
"I'm fine," she replied, her eyes on the darkness, "just tired." She flicked a glance at her companion. "It's been a busy day."  
  
He snorted softly in agreement. Hints of a smile around his mouth.  
  
"You think we're going to be okay?" She asked after another long silence.  
  
"I hope so," he said as they exchanged a look.  
  
"We survived this long," he added as he dropped to the ground, searching for some support for his back against the stone.  
  
"Yes we did," she agreed, enjoying being able to lookdown for once at her tall companion.  
  
He smiled at her in the darkness. The sight made her feel tired, weak.  
  
Abruptly she dropped to the ground, curling her legs under her for warmth.  
  
"Here," he offered, same as he did every night, "we can share my cloak."  
  
Slowly, and for the first time a little awkwardly Amelia moved across the floor to take her place under his arm, head against his shoulder.  
  
"I'll take first watch," he continued their ritual softly, "you sleep now."  
  
Almost involuntarily, Amelia closed her eyes, the same as she did every night, and sought a few hours of peace.  
  
*****  
  
End part five.  
  
A bit less action adventure in this instalment, but I promise I'll make up for it soon. As for now hope you enjoyed the ride and please review. Please. Pretty please. 


	6. Turning North

Harry Potter: Dark Days  
  
Author's note: here we head into part 6, and - my god what's that? A Plot?!? No it can't be...can it????  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine.  
  
Part Six  
  
By Redtoes  
  
Amelia had never liked the dark as a child. Darkness held too many secrets, too many hiding places for monsters. There was a reason after all why You Know Who had claimed the title of "Dark Lord" for himself. Darkness was, quite simply, bad.  
  
And so it was with some amusement, and no small amount of irony, that she reflected on exactly how much she depended on darkness now. The night was her shelter, her protection. Dark was now far safer than day.  
  
Which was why that now, when their journey had finally acquired a destination, they travelled by starlight.  
  
They'd left the forest shortly after dusk, leaving behind the maze of hiding places the wood had offered to cross open countryside for the first time in Amelia didn't know how long. It went against everything she and Jonny had always lived by to move without obvious shelter and she could see the worry lines creasing his forehead deepen with every pace. True, they skirted fields and followed hedgerows to minimise the exposure but both felt it acutely - Jonny's eyes darting around the darkness, Amelia's hands tight on her weapons.  
  
But it was time to move, time to go. The comforting confusion of the forest was behind them, hope their only guide as Jonny muttered a soft "Point me" over his wand and the three of them turned north in the darkness.  
  
Damn that child.  
  
*****  
  
It had all started rather simply and, when Jonny was to later look back on it, he would recall the complete lack of surprise he'd felt when Albus had turned to him, in the midst of trudging through an unusually appealing forest glade and asked:  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
It a simple question, a child's question asked by a child, but the answer was far from simple.  
  
"Where are we going Jonny?" The boy repeated.  
  
Jonny hesitated. Looking to Amelia for advice, he realised that while Albus' question had froze him in his step, the female third of the group was almost out of sight through the trees  
  
"Where Jonny?" Albus pulled at his hand, trying to use his parent honed puppy-dog eyes to best advantage. "Are we nearly there yet? We've been walking for days."  
  
"No," Jonny choked out, "we're not there yet. We're not," he paused, searching for words, any words, "anywhere yet. Anywhere at all."  
  
How did one explain to a child that in this world you kept moving for more reasons than because an active target was far less easy to find, let alone hit?  
  
Jonny struggled for inspiration, for an explanation that would fit. He couldn't say that were they ever to stop moving Amelia would last mere days. He couldn't explain that his worst fear in this new world was not Death Eaters but a lack of them.  
  
He hated the fight, the death of it all, but Amelia needed it. She thrived on it.  
  
She'd die without it.  
  
Jonny looked up from his pained examination of Albus' eyes to find Amelia watching him silently from the middle distance.  
  
Her face was expressionless, but by now he knew well enough now to read the anticipation in her stance.  
  
Sometime he wondered if she understood it all better than he did.  
  
"I don't understand," Albus complained loudly, "Where are we going? We must be going somewhere."  
  
Jonny held Amelia eyes. Watching. Waiting.  
  
"We must," Albus continued, his voice stretching into a whine. "I don't get it."  
  
Abruptly Amelia stepped forward out of the brush, ignoring the thorns that opened new rents in her robes.  
  
"We're hiding Albus," she said, her eyes never leaving Jonny's. "We keep moving so we don't get caught, not because we're going anywhere."  
  
"Why not?" came the child's reply.  
  
"We have nowhere to go," she answered dully.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Amelia looked away from Jonny to kneel down beside Albus. Not she needed to, Jonny thought, her diminutive height had her mere inches above him, unlike his tall growth.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said softly, "but we're all there is."  
  
Albus shook his head defiantly.  
  
"No," he denied her, "no. There're people. There are."  
  
"No there's not," Jonny said, dropping down beside Amelia to talk to the boy on an easier eye level. "We're it."  
  
"No!" Albus was close to tears. "We're not. There's Hogwarts!"  
  
The word Jonny like a punch, knocking him backwards from his crouch, to land awkwardly in the dirt.  
  
Amelia sighed.  
  
"Hogwarts was destroyed," she said softly, "nearly two years ago."  
  
Albus shook his head.  
  
"I saw it," she admitted. "Hogwarts is gone."  
  
"No!" Albus insisted. "It's better. It's sank-tree. It's better!"  
  
Sank-tree? Jonny thought, What the hell?  
  
"Albus," Amelia reached for the boy who neatly stepped back from her arms, stamping his foot in the awkward anger children aim at adults.  
  
Sank-tree? Sanctuary?  
  
"Sanctuary?" Jonny felt himself murmur. Amelia looked sharply at him but he had eyes only for Albus. "Did you say sanctuary?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah sank-tree. It's safe. Ma said so."  
  
Jonny turned to see Amelia staring at him, emotion bright in her usually dead eyes.  
  
"We could -" he started.  
  
"Jonny."  
  
She shook her head, refusing the possibility.  
  
"Two years," he pointed out. "Things can change a lot in two years."  
  
Amelia looked away. Jonny turned to Albus.  
  
"Who told you about Hogwarts, Albus?"  
  
"Ma said it. We're going there." Albus voice faltered as reality hit home for a second. "We were going there, but - " Tears filled the boy's eyes, as his words became a sob.  
  
"It's okay," Jonny comforted pulling the child into his arms.  
  
"She said He was there," the boy choked out between sobs.  
  
"Who? Your father?" Amelia asked, moving closer to the two of them but still holding herself back from touching either.  
  
"Yeah," the boy sniffled, "But not Da. Him."  
  
"You're real father," Jonny realised, "not your step-dad." Looking up his eyes met Amelia's. Biting his lip, he pulled back slightly to look Albus in the eyes.  
  
"When did she say that?" he asked softly, "Is he there now?"  
  
"Yeah," Albus wiped his nose on his sleeve before burying his head in Jonny's shoulder once more. "It's sank-tree."  
  
Slowly Jonny raised his eyes to Amelia's.  
  
"It's been two years," he said slowly.  
  
She set her jaw looking away from him.  
  
"I bet all those charms are still in the ground," he offered. "It takes more than two years to erase the power of a thousand."  
  
"It was a destroyed," she said quietly, but with less conviction than before. "You saw it."  
  
"I saw the battle," he admitted. "Some of it still stood."  
  
"Some," she agreed. "The rest was gutted. A smoking ruin. A charnel house."  
  
"It's been two years Amelia," he pressed. "We should try. This" he gestured at the surrounding woodland, "is no safer than anywhere else."  
  
She looked away for a long moment.  
  
"We have to try," he added.  
  
Amelia sighed as she pushed herself to her feet.  
  
"I'll take first watch. You get some sleep," she ordered. "If we do this, we travel by night."  
  
*****  
  
She wasn't sure how she felt about this.  
  
Part of her, the Millie part, longed to see the old place, walk familiar hallways, be safe, be still, take a chance on the word of a child.  
  
But the rest of her, Amelia, forged in flame and death one night and simmered for two years in hot anger and revenge, Amelia was wary.  
  
True, Hogwarts had been the safest place in the country for a thousand years, but the operative part of that sentence was "had". Even before the Dark Lord had blasted apart walls and wards to get to a certain Gryffindor seventh-year there had been events that left the school shaken to its foundations. The Tri-Wizard Cup she'd witnessed as a Ravenclaw first-year. The chamber of secrets and the rumours surrounding the philosopher's stone were common knowledge and favourite stories of the pupils during her years at the school.  
  
Without this war, without You Know Who she wouldn't even have graduated yet. She'd be a seventh year, worrying about her NEWTs..  
  
Abruptly Amelia shook her head, clearing that thought. There was no use on thinking on what might have been. Sarah might have been a Ravenclaw. Her father might have cheered her graduation. But neither of those would ever happen now.  
  
Amelia had been reeling from those shocks for mere days before the news had broken across the wizarding world of the battle for the school. She'd been wandering Diagon Alley in a daze, the blood still damp on her hands - but by no means the only battle scared witch or wizard walking that street that day - when the cry had come from the Leaky Cauldren.  
  
Harry Potter dies defending Hogwarts!  
  
The School has fallen!  
  
The Boy who Lived was dead!  
  
She remembered the panic that seized them all, the way the news had sent everyone running to the nearest fireplace or Apparating to Hogsmeade right there on the street.  
  
She'd been caught up in it. Had found herself running down a country lane towards the school in a crowd of anguished parents half mad with worry and fear.  
  
It had all gone wrong. Potter, the wizarding world's hope, was dead and the school destroyed.  
  
Crushed.  
  
She'd taken one look at the remnants of it all - the smoke rising from broken buildings, the anguished parents screaming for their children, the slow steady momentum propelling the crowd towards the quidditch field where, it was said, the bodies were piled.  
  
She couldn't face it.  
  
She'd turned. Run.  
  
Deep into the forbidden forest, though trees and brush, throwing herself forward away from the destruction, safe in comparison to the horrors behind her.  
  
That night she'd huddled between tree roots, staring into the darkness with wild eyes, wand in hand when a boy had stumbled into the clearing.  
  
Jonny.  
  
Together they'd forged a path away from it all.  
  
Further from Hogwarts and the past with each day that passed.  
  
They'd never discussed it. Never felt a need to revisit those horrors.  
  
But now -  
  
Now.  
  
Damn that child.  
  
In the darkness she followed Jonny and that child, her mind and body stretched out in search of danger.  
  
They were going back, and there was no shelter to hide behind anymore.  
  
Damn that child.  
  
Damn him.  
  
***** Part 6 done and done.  
  
Please review. I won't update 'til you do and the next chapter's a doozy! 


	7. The Tunnel

Dark Days:  The Tunnel 

_Author's note:  Part 7 of 10.  I read my way through the entirety of Order of the Phoenix in about 7 hours and therefore reached the end before everyone else I know and am stuck waiting for them to catch up so I can talk about it.  Anyway while I'm waiting I'm writing this story because it still works (gotta love original characters).  _

_There are no spoilers for OotP in Dark Days unless you really go looking for them, and I have to say I totally got it wrong on who I thought was going to die…….._

_Dedication: For James, without whom I'd have never picked up the book.  For Jona, without whom I'd have never have owned either movie.  And for Ellie, who makes all things possible._

_Disclaimer:  not mine.  _

**Part Seven:  The Tunnel**

**By Redtoes.**

It took them two nights of walking to reach the train lines.  The journey would have been shorter were it not for Amelia's insistence on pushing both Jonny and Albus to the ground at the slightest sign of well, anything.

Privately Jonny referred to these occurrences as "duck and covers" and thought they'd be about as much help as the 1950s and 60s nuclear protections they'd been named for had been.  He wondered absently if the wizarding world had had any awareness of the political tensions that had wracked the muggle world at that time.  It certainly hadn't been mentioned in his muggle studies class at Hogwarts, but then he'd never made it past the 5th year for obvious reasons.

At any extent it wasn't hard for Jonny to imagine Amelia calling for "complete blackout" or the "all-clear" when he was forced face-down under a hedgerow for the fifth time in one night.  He smiled grimly at the thought of it.  His analogy wasn't far from the truth – they were unwillingly caught up in this war, their only hope for survival hiding in the darkness of night.  Our own private blitz, he commented mentally.

Despite all this Jonny had to admit that he didn't really begrudge Amelia her precautions.  She had an awareness of danger that far surpassed his – a level of perception he found quite frightening at times – and he'd learned to trust it.  She knew what she was doing, and he respected that enough to keeps his gripes to himself.

Albus however did not.

And was now labouring under the deftly applied silencing spell Amelia had cast sometime around midnight.

Jonny had to admit it was deserved.  After all, it was Albus who had caused them to step out from the relative safety of the forest, and he should have the wit to realise that complaining loudly when thrust to the ground for his own safety was not the smartest thing to do.

But he was a child.

Still, Jonny thought he might privately recommend that Amelia cast a Quietus charm the next night.  It would keep Albus audible, though only enough to hold a conversation and it would prevent the dangerous yelps the child emitted from attracting the wrong kind of attention.  

He'd suggest it in the morning.

When the sun came up and they found whatever shelter they could to wait out the day.

Jonny smiled to himself as he watched the boy aim silent insults at Amelia's back.  Though he couldn't help but frown when the child's mouth clearly sneered Mudblood.  

Perhaps that was the worst insult the child had ever heard.

Perhaps it didn't know what it meant – though the word was pretty self-explanatory.

Whatever it was it bared closer watch.

As Albus aimed a few more insults concerning Amelia's parentage Jonny was forced once more to smile.

He was pretty sure _that_ wasn't accurate.  Dragons couldn't breed with humans.  And Amelia's family definitely had enough wealth to dispute any claim of pauper levelled at them.

The insults were interesting though.  Jonny wondered where the boy had learnt them.

In the moonlight Amelia dropped to the ground in front of him, examining the iron tracks stretching out of view in either direction.

"Are you sure," she muttered quietly, not looking at him.

"Positive," he replied. "Stand back." 

Waiting until Amelia had retreated a step Jonny levelled his wand at the train tracks and ordered "_Novae copiae incantatem_."

Under the power of the charm the tracks glowed silver for a second, before fading again to the dull glow of metal.

Amelia raised an eyebrow.

"Translation?"

"Reinforce incantation."

"Doesn't sound especially traditional," she commented softly.

"It isn't."  Jonny crouched down by the tracks.  "Look," he said, "the tracks don't reflect anything – not the stars, not the moon.  You see?"

"I do now," Amelia admitted.

"'Spells that alter the physical reality of inanimate objects can be forced to reveal themselves,'" Jonny recited, "_Standard book of spells, volume five._"

Amelia tilted her head slightly, considering.

"A revealing spell would have bounced off," she said slowly, "a object this big has too large a mass to be revealed all at once."

"Correct," Jonny grinned, "but a reinforcing spell is only effective if the charm needs reinforcing, otherwise -"

"It just glows," Amelia's face suddenly split into a wide smile, forcing Jonny to stare at her.  Premature lines of worry and death dropped away as the sixteen year old grinned in the moonlight.

After a second Jonny smiled in return, trying to ignore the pull he felt in his chest at her expression.

The two of them grinned stupidly at each other for a few minutes, until Albus stepped between them with a decidedly bored expression on his eight-year old features.

"Flitwick would be proud," Jonny offered as Amelia looked away.

Her expression when she turned back was as neutral as ever.  He felt a chill at the sight of schooled features, her version of normality.

"Which way?"

With a sigh Jonny murmured "_Point me_" to his wand and watched as Amelia set off along the tracks.

With a final look to the south – to London, and all it held – Jonny pulled a sulking Albus, still sore about his enforced silence, to his feet and followed the girl northward.

*******

"I don't like it."

Amelia's voice was strained, as if somehow stretched by the words.  The sound caused Jonny to check her expression as subtlety as he could.  She looked tired, the lines her earlier smile had erased back with a vengeance.

"What don't you like?" 

"This," she said, indicating the black maw of the train tunnel cut into the steep hillside.  "I don't like this."

Jonny looked at the tunnel, its path far darker than the moonlit night around them.  The tracks stretched away into the darkness, unlit by any star or torch.  Unappealing it certainly was, but no worse than any other peril they'd faced.  Amelia's reaction seemed excessive for what was basically a walk in a different type of darkness.  Unless - 

"What do you feel?" he asked in an undertone, curious as to whether her unusually high sensitivity to danger could be the cause of her obvious discomfort.

"Nothing," she snapped.  "I don't feel anything."  Her lips pursed in irritation but she didn't take her eyes from the tunnel entrance.  "There's nothing in there but air."

"How do you -" Jonny bit down on the question, knowing she wouldn't ever explain the hows.  He tried in the past and gotten nowhere.  This was a skill of hers that much was obvious but she'd always been unwilling to explain or share it.

"So it's empty?" He queried, watching the conflict that played across her face.

"Yes."

"And it's safe?"

"I don't like it."

"But it's safe?"

"As far as I can tell," Amelia glared at him, "I just don't like it."  Behind the glare her eyes searched his face, as if for understanding, before her features hardened once more and she returned her eyes to the archway.

Jonny looked at the tunnel.  What was it about it that was causing Amelia to – 

Oh.

She couldn't be, surely.

"Amelia," he started, watching her closely, "are you, I mean, do you, I mean – dammit," Jonny looked at the ground searching for the best way to put this.  "Are you claustrophobic?"

The girl stared at him for a long moment before she shouldered her small pack and marched towards the entrance.

"Amelia?" he called after her.

"No," came the cold answer, "Let's go."

********

The noise froze her instantly.

Heart suddenly racing, her body fell into its usual adrenaline powered state as she  _reached - _

Nothing.

Yet there it was again.

A creeping, slithering sound.

Rats?

But then this was a magical tunnel, for a magical train on magical tracks.  She was about as likely to find boggarts in broad daylight as rats in here.  

Again.  Nearer this time.

Her wand was lit.  Was it too late to hide?  Wouldn't anything out there have seen her already?

It was worth a try.

Whispering "_Nox_" over her wand Amelia stood in the darkness, listening.

"Amelia?"

Jonny's voice echoed loudly in the darkness.

Amelia spun, saw the two drawing ever closer, lit by Jonny's wand and oh so visible in the darkness.

Before she knew it she was in motion, sprinting, closing the distance, slamming into Jonny and pulling Albus with them to the ground, hissing _"Nox"_ over Jonny's wand with the last of her breath.

The tunnel plunged into darkness.  Amelia lay, sprawled over Jonny, one hand clenched in Albus' shirt holding him down.  Any second now the boy was going to start squirming out of her grasp.

"What is it?" she felt Jonny breathe against her ear.

There was no need to answer as the sound came, again closer.  She felt Jonny tense under her and knew he understood.

Again.

And again.

Amelia held herself ready, a curse on her lips waiting to be said – 

And suddenly the air was full of noise, of movement – 

And she was yanked backwards with enough force that she let out a scream –

Claws digging into her shoulders, through her robes lifted her into the air -  

She couldn't see to fight.  

She was going to die.  They were all going to die.

No!  Amelia screamed, struggling, feeling the talons piercing her flesh shift and screaming anew at this pain, so different from anything, more personal than crucio, and – 

She was still holding her wand.

"_LUMOS!_" she screamed, and light burst out of the end of her wand, illuminating a tunnel full of wings and claws, and hideously drawn faces that screeched at her light, pulling their wings up to hide black eyes and dropping her – 

 - dropping her  -

Amelia fell, seeing everything – Jonny ten feet below her stood over the quivering form of Albus holding creatures at arms length from him, his wand forgotten on the floor.

Sharp-toothed beaks snapped in the arm above and around her, one catching her arm, tearing her sleeve.

And she hit the ground, groaning as the air rushed out of her, leaving her winded.

"AMELIA!"

Jonny.  She vaguely recalled him screaming for her as she was lifted. 

Amelia flopped over onto her back, gasping for breath and swallowing the scream that threatened to burst out of her throat.

Get up.  Now.

And she was on her feet, but she still couldn't see.  Couldn't fight

"_LUMOS TOTALIS_!"

Light burst along the tunnel, as if a miniature star was born from Amelia's wand.  The bricks themselves glowed white from the power of it.

And then the air was full of inhuman screams; shrieks of pain so chilling she almost dropped her wand.

But the light held, illuminating the creatures as they fled from it 

And Jonny, panting and blood-streaked as he stared at Amelia, his eyes wide despite the brightness around them.

She lowered her wand.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, trying to keep the weakness she felt out of her tone.

"A few scratches," he replied softly, "you?"

Amelia looked down at herself, taking in the rents on her clothing, the blood she could feel seeping down her back and the stains she could she on her front where the creatures claws had pinched deep into her shoulders from either side.

She lifted her eyes to Jonny, hating the concern in his eyes.

"I'm whole.  Albus?" 

Jonny was easily distracted.  He quickly scooped up his wand then dropped to his knees by the boy, aiming "_Finate Incantatum_" at his throat.  Albus' sobs immediately became audible, but he was, Amelia saw as Jonny checked him over, completely unharmed, the elder boy having protected him throughout the attack.

"What were they?" Albus sniffled as his tears abated.

Jonny looked to Amelia who shrugged.  "I don't know," he answered.  "But they didn't like the light."

Amelia looked around them.  Totalis light was too noticeable.  She would guess that with the force she put into the spell it would be visible from outside the tunnel.  It could attract attention.  But what if the creatures came back?

"Light your wand," she ordered Jonny.  He did so, a wide beam of light emanated from the tip of his wand.

_"Totalis Nox,"_ she said clearly, then as the light died added _"Lumos_."  

Amelia regarded her wand.  The candle-like flame on atop it was completely different from Jonny's strong beam.  She looked at him

"Try_ Lumos Radius_," he offered.  She did.

At once a beam shot out of the end of her wand to match his.

"Another charm class?" She asked curiously.

"No," he said, helping Albus to his feet.  "That's one of mine."  Ignoring the look she sent him, he started walking, continuing their journey through the tunnel.

"Keep your beam searching," he ordered over his shoulder.  "If they don't like light they won't come near."  

After a second Amelia followed, aiming her light as he'd instructed, despite her confusion and curiosity.  Jonny had surprised her.  She hadn't thought that could happen.  And what had he meant, one of his spells?

"Oh and Amelia," the subject of her thoughts called, " I'm taking a look at your wounds as soon as we're somewhere nothing wants to kill us."

Amelia smiled in the semi-darkness, happy she was behind him, out of sight.  That was Jonny – always had to mother, to protect.  Even when she was the one doing the fighting.

She let the smile linger on her lips for a second, liking the feel of it.

The beam from her wand continued to sweep the ceiling as the three of them made their way along the train tracks and out into a darkness far less stifling than the tunnel, but no less dangerous.

*******

Review, review, review!


	8. Tending her Wounds

Tending her wounds  
  
By Redtoes.  
  
Chapter 8 of Dark Days  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine.  
  
*****  
  
She winced every time the damp cloth came in connect with the wounds on her back. For some reason he found this perfectly natural reaction quite odd, as if he'd expected her to maintain her level of quiet, calm disinterest while he extracted dirt, dust and god knows what else from the still oozing gashes with his fingers. Jagged fragment of the creatures' claws had broken off in the her flesh, slithers of bone or claw that shifted every time she moved and threatened to cause even more damage.  
  
All in all it was not especially surprising that she winced. But the fact that she did made him feel closer to her than he'd felt for a long time. It meant she still had enough human in her to regard this pain as bad.  
  
He'd been worried that she'd never find anything to live for again. He'd thought once that she'd have given up in combat long ago if it hadn't been that losing was an unacceptable result. Her pride forbids her from defeat.  
  
She hissed though her teeth, not unlike an aggravated cat, as Jonny managed to work a particularly large shard free. It was bloody, jagged, with the tell tale lines visible that proved a nail or claw origin. What were they termed? He cursed himself silently for the failure to remember. His mother would have termed that unacceptable. The thought made him smile, remembering the tutorials and lessons he taken while helping her at her surgery. For a while he'd dreamt about becoming a vet, working with animals like her. But then his Hogwarts letter had arrived and nothing more had come of it.  
  
Magic had been his new dream.  
  
But he remembered. Yes, this was definitely a claw, though it's structure was more reptilian than avian. But then, as he remembered the brief glimpses of the creatures from the tunnel, he thought that fitted. Like giant bats. Giant lizard-bats that hated light. Giant photosensitive lizard-bats.  
  
He was wondering absently what the creatures were named when a soft groan from Amelia brought him back to the present with a jolt.  
  
She sat with her back to him, clothes held tight against her chest to preserve her modesty. He'd needed to see the wounds to clean them and neither of them had been able to fathom a way for him to do that that involved clothing for Amelia.  
  
Her back was the colour of milk - pale, white. The bloody wounds on her shoulders stood out like a blasphemy against the purity of her skin.  
  
And they were still bleeding. Softly, gently, Jonny used his fingers to open the gashes, see if any debris remained inside. They seemed clean.  
  
He allowed himself a hard smile, before he lifted his wand and began the incantation to re-knit flesh.  
  
Amelia whimpered as he worked.  
  
*******  
  
The cuts on her chest were less serious. That was the reason he'd chosen to focus on her back first. The only reason.  
  
Facing her while he did this was so much harder.  
  
"Does this hurt?" He murmured softly, keeping his voice low. Albus was sleeping across the barn, curled in the shadow of the decrepit hayloft and neither teenager wished to wake him. The boy deserved some rest.  
  
"Yes." She sounded tense. She also refused to look him in the eye, staring instead at the far corner of the shack they had commandeered.  
  
"And this?" The other wound.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And your lip?"  
  
Amelia glared at him for a second before looking away.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then stop biting it," he grinned.  
  
The automatic repost died on her lips, its place taken by a long-suffering sigh.  
  
"Good girl," he muttered as his fingers held open her shoulder wound. It seemed clean; the blood that glistened on her skin was pure red, with no dirt or debris to mar it. This he could knit without worries.  
  
"What are we going to do?" The question was so quiet he almost didn't notice it, caught up as he was in his task.  
  
"Huh?" Lifting his eyes from her bare shoulder he found Amelia staring straight at him, with an intensity he'd rarely seen from her outside of battle.  
  
"What are we going to do next time this happens?"  
  
"I don't think we'll be going back through that tunnel -"  
  
"No," she interrupted, "I mean next time one of us gets hurt. I don't know how to do what you do - I never mastered anything that couldn't be used to -" Awkwardly she broke off, looking away.  
  
"Amelia?"  
  
"No," she said sharply, rejecting his attempts at comfort.  
  
He couldn't help but think it was strange that she felt so far away when she was sitting right in front of him. His hand was still upon her shoulder, from where he'd been examining the wound. He didn't know whether he should remove it or not.  
  
"My father wanted me to be an Auror."  
  
Jonny didn't think there was anything he could say to that. Comments such as 'well my dad thought I'd make a great policeman' were best reserved for times when he had the patience and ability to explain to Amelia what exactly policemen were. Not to mention the fact that she obviously wasn't looking for an exchange of information or history right now.  
  
"He trained me, trained me to do so many things. Our family spells. What he called our legacy. I can kill." She looked up at him, her eyes pained. "You've seen me kill."  
  
Jonny had no idea what to do with that truth. Lost in the pain on her face he had little recourse but to sit, listen - and to keep looking her in the eye.  
  
He'd been expecting an emotional breakdown from Amelia for nearly two years, but this cold, inflectionless monologue belying the pain in her eyes was far from anything he'd imagined.  
  
"First time I ever killed anything I was seven. Father brought some mice. For my training."  
  
His mother had always had mice around the house. Vets did he supposed. Once he fed one to a python his mother had been treating, but he guessed that was different to being trained to kill them with magic.  
  
At seven.  
  
Seven.  
  
"He taught me to fight for the war that was coming. Against Voldemort" - she spat the name with a vitriol he'd rarely heard - "because he couldn't."  
  
"My father, you see," She took a deep breath, as though steadying herself for what came next, "was a Death Eater."  
  
********  
  
"Sanguis sano, membrum restutio."  
  
Even now, after fours years at Hogwarts and two years living on his (magical) wits, Jonny felt a faint stab of amazement at the way Amelia's skin smoothed over the remaining injury on her shoulder.  
  
His job done, he suddenly felt awkward. Amelia's revelation had been met with his silence - he had no words for her. It wasn't that he was angry, or upset, or anything. He just felt separate from it all. And confused as to why she would want to share the truth of her family's loyalty with him.  
  
Her wounds healed, skin whole, Amelia began to withdraw. Jonny reached out a hand to catch her.  
  
"I'm muggle-born."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Then why...." Jonny didn't have the words.  
  
"Then why haven't I killed you?" Her tone was blandly neutral, but he could detect something deeper behind it. Something hard and cold and unreachable.  
  
"I don't," he replied honestly, "think you'd fight anyone who wasn't your enemy."  
  
"And what do you know about it?" She sneered.  
  
"I know you."  
  
"Do you?" Her tone was far from neutral now, all disdain and anger.  
  
"You said your father was a Death Eater," he said slowly. "Something changed. What was it?"  
  
Amelia stared at him, her anger suddenly gone, replaced with an expression caught somewhere between shock and grief.  
  
"My father?"  
  
"What changed Amelia? You said was. And you said he trained you to fight Voldemort not to serve him. What changed?"  
  
"He fell in love with a muggle-born. Rejected all his old beliefs save the one that said the Dark Lord would return."  
  
"So he trained you?"  
  
"Yeah." Amelia dropped her eyes to the floor. "Yeah." Slowly she leant backwards until she lay flat out, her eyes closed.  
  
Jonny watched her. She didn't move. She face was bland, but soft. Resigned. She has nothing more to say, he realised. She's told me the truth of who she is and she's waiting for me to do something, to throw her out. Kill her.  
  
Jonny shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Then slowly he lowered his body to the ground beside her.  
  
Reaching out, her snagged their one remaining blanket and pulled it over both of them.  
  
Then closed his eyes.  
  
*****  
  
They broke camp in almost silence, the only sounds the constant mumbling of Albus to himself, most likely complaints or insults aimed at Amelia. Jonny ignored them, his mind busy, logically and emotionally processing the previous night.  
  
Amelia sat apart from them, her knees pulled up to her chest as she looked out over the twilighted countryside. She had her head rested on her knees, her light pack beside her on the ground.  
  
Jonny finished packing up what was left of the food, casting the usual perservus charm over the perishables as he did so. Shouldering his pack he stood for a second, watching the slip of a girl a year younger than he that was Amelia. So strong, and so fragile at the same time.  
  
He'd often wondered what had happened to change her so - from the shy, quiet but ultimately friendly Millie he'd known at Hogwarts to the harsh warrior she was now. It had finally dawned on him in the early hours of the morning that they were one and same.  
  
He lay beside, her body cocooned against his side in what they had long excused as body heat, but he'd begun to realise was something far more important - companionship and comfort. And he realised, slowly adding the information she'd shared of her past with what he knew of the present, that she'd always been this. It was just that there had been no need for a fighter at Hogwarts - until the day it was destroyed. She'd buried her childhood beneath a cloak of learning and lessons. She'd rejected it, choosing instead to live a Hogwarts life.  
  
And then Voldemort had returned.  
  
The more he'd thought about it, the more he couldn't remember her at Hogwarts in the days that had preceeded the attack on the school. It had been commented upon, hadn't it? And someone had said something had happened to her family...  
  
And that Death Eater, the one that recognised her, he'd been surprised to see her, amazed that she was alive. How had she survived, he'd asked while Jonny watched from nearby cover, waiting for the moment he could distract the man enough to let Amelia gain an advantage.  
  
Not that she'd needed him then. But what had she said when he'd asked that, something like she hadn't been there. Something..  
  
Jonny pushed at his memory, trying to make out the overall picture.  
  
Amelia father had been a Death Eater. He'd fallen in love. He'd had a family. Who were all dead save the frail blonde sitting bare feet away from him.  
  
Amelia's father had turned his back on Voldemort. And Voldemort had killed him for it.  
  
No wonder Amelia wanted revenge. She'd been brought up to kill the enemy of her father, protect her family, but her enemy had killed her family when she wasn't even there.  
  
Jesus.  
  
Jonny ran a shaky hand through his hair, grasping the back of his neck in an attempt to steady himself. No wonder she wanted revenge.  
  
He wondered if she'd seen the bodies, then cursed himself silently for his crudeness.  
  
She was still sitting there, unmoving, perhaps as caught up in her thoughts as he was in his.  
  
It only took him a few strides to reach her.  
  
She didn't look at him as he crouched down beside her.  
  
"We'll reach the school tomorrow or the day after," he said slowly, "we can't be more than forty, fifty miles out now." He looked out at the countryside, the green hills and soft fields of an English landscape. They looked untouched, but he fancied he could see the dark hand of the Death Eaters however over every house he could see. Not even the muggles had survived this conflict untouched - though they never knew the whole story of course.  
  
No one ever did.  
  
Jonny looked at the young girl beside him and wondered what the rest of her story was. He wondered how he's ever thought them different, both alone and orphaned by this war. Though he had no proof it was easier to think that way - his family were safer as unknown muggles than the impure parents of a enemy wizard. Or that was what he'd always thought. Perhaps it was time to think differently.  
  
"We should go," he said softly. "We'll get to the school, see what's there. Make our plans."  
  
She looked at him askance, a glimmer of confusion in her eyes.  
  
"It's time we start fighting this war," he offered her. "Maybe we can do that at Hogwarts."  
  
Amelia stared at him for a long moment. Her eyes seemed to bore into his, searching for his reasons, the truth behind the words. Then slowly, as though the weight of two years and the vengeance of the dead were lifted, she began to smile.  
  
He couldn't help but grin in return, as if suddenly aware after these years in exile that there was more to life than living.  
  
"Maybe," she echoed back at him. "Hogwarts."  
  
"Yeah," he replied, knowing there was nothing else left to do. They would see Albus safe to their destination, his father. Then they would do what they had to.  
  
The thought awoke more hope in him than he'd thought he had left to feel.  
  
"Yes."  
  
It was strange that one syllable could mean so much. They'd just as good as promised their own deaths, but Jonny couldn't stop smiling. Looking at Amelia he saw that neither could she.  
  
Life is more than just living.  
  
*******  
  
Like it? Hate it? Let me know! 


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